Paradise Found
by Crowsfoot
Summary: Unable to ascend, the angel finds himself constantly drawn back to the grieving hunter who holes himself up in a Bed and Breakfast whose owner is more than meets the eye.


"_Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break."_ -William Shakespeare, Macbeth

The man was sitting on the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging low. Castiel stepped closer, breathed in deeply and tasted the strange taint of Dean's aura. It coated his tongue and throat, making bile rise in his throat. "He's gone, Cas. He's gone and I don't know how to bring him back."

Unable to think of anything that would comfort the grieving hunter, he stood by and watched the bruising colours of Dean's once bright aura. Dean slid off the bed and dropped bonelessly to his knees, covering his face with his hands. He was kneeling in front of Castiel, bowed down by the burden of his pain and it made the angel's soul ache. He knew what Sam was to Dean. He understood their connection which went beyond brotherhood to a deep sense of love that Castiel could understand. It was something that he felt for his own brothers and sisters..

Dean sobbed brokenly into his hands. Castiel dropped to his knees and was surprised when the once recalcitrant hunter seemed to slump against him. With just a moment's hesitation, he wrapped his arms around the weeping human and cradled him. He felt tears well in his own eyes. "I'm so sorry you feel like this." The angel said, his voice low and gravelly with barely checked emotion.

An arm slithered beneath his trench coat and jacket to wrap tightly around his slender waist. He pushed his head into Castiel's abdomen and screamed a ragged scream that muffled against his shirt. He could feel Dean's hot breath through the thin material. The scream dwindled as the last of his breath was wrung from his lungs, his body clenched and shaking until finally he gave out, collapsing against the angel's legs. His free hand fisted the tan material of the angel's coat, tugging with so much strength that if Castiel had been human, would have caused him to bow to its weight.

"Tell me you can find him, Cas. Save him." Dean whispered, looking up at the angel with pleading, bloodshot eyes.

"I can't, Dean. He's gone away from us. He's well and truly gone-"

"No! I was gone. I was in hell and you lifted me out. You can do it, if anyone can!"

"-you know I can't, Dean. I wish that I could. He's trapped. If I were to enter, I would release Lucifer and Michael on us and his sacrifice would be for nothing."

The feverish light of desperate hope winked out in Dean's wide, green eyes and he lowered his head back down to Castiel's lap. The hunter's hand was still tangled in the folds of his coat and the arm that had been wrapped around his waist lay limply on the floor. He raked a hand through the man's hair, his fingernails scraping gently against his scalp as his other worked soothing circles against his back. He wished with every fibre of his considerable being that he could answer Dean's prayer but he felt frustration and useless anger well in the pit of his stomach. He gritted his teeth behind clamped lips and sent out a silent prayer to his beloved Father. There was no answer but for the ever present susurrate of the heavenly host in the back of his mind.

The angel sat, watching over the prone body of his hunter with a detached fascination as his eyelids slid down over glassy eyes. Castiel felt his body go slack but he didn't move. Instead, he kept gently scratching Dean's scalp as he watched over him. He became oblivious to the passage of time, to the shadows in the room as they slithered their insidious way across the carpet and eventually engulfed the room in twilight. He ignored the scream of his body telling him the angle of his limbs was unnatural as night gave way to morning. Instead, he prayed over the grieving form of his sleeping friend for comfort and ease from his hurts.

When Dean finally woke, he turned his face towards Castiel's and looked up behind impossibly long eyelashes. The angel felt an odd urge to run the pad of his thumb gently across them. Instead, he let his hands slide from Dean's hair sensing that the man was building the walls back up that had once shielded his vulnerable soul. He sat up and pivoted on his rear to lean against the bed.

"What will you do now that..." Dean swallowed thickly before continuing, "the war is over."

Castiel canted his head slightly, considering, "I suppose I must work on getting heaven back to order. The generals are gathering and I must rally the troops."

"What does that mean for us?" His voice was devoid of emotion, his face a mask of cold detachment and suspicion.

Lifting one shoulder in a gallic gesture, "Nothing, if we can help it."

Once, a long time ago, Castiel had watched a human wrestle with one of his brothers. It was one of the few great examples of human perseverance and from that day, he had admired that trait in them. To watch Dean resolve himself to life without his brother instead of giving in to death which had crowded in on him and polluted his soul, was like watching Jacob's battle. He wanted to close the distance between them, lay his hand against the man's chest and feel the change resonate in his soul. It was a fascinating transformation.

Instead, he gathered himself to stand. It took a moment as his feet were asleep but when he did stand, Dean was already across the room with the top drawer of the dresser open. He was cramming clothes into his duffel bag in jerky, angry movements.

Resisting the urge to outwardly display his curiosity at this sudden change in emotions, Castiel asked, "What will you do now? Where will you go?"

His movements faltering, Dean regarded the angel from the corner of his eye before answering, "Sam made me promise that I'd give the normal life thing a try."

"I assume your intentions are to go to the woman, Lisa?" His hands hung limply at his sides but they itched to run down the clean lines of Dean's back beneath the flannel shirt he wore.

Dean stood motionless for a time before giving a nod of his head and resuming his packing. He moved across the room, gathering items that lay scattered over surfaces. "And what of your other duties?"

"Other duties?" The hunter stopped to stare at the angel in disbelief, holding one of Sam's shirts in his hands. "The only duty I ever had was to keep Sammy safe and since I couldn't even do that- I might as well grant his last wish. Maybe I'll be able pull it off... I don't know, but I'm going to try."

"Your skillset is a valuable one, Dean. It is needed and it would be unfair and selfish of you to not put it to use, saving what precious peace there is in the world."

With sweeping steps, Dean stopped short just inches from Castiel's face. The angel found his thoughts scattered and irrelevant as the man leaned in. Raising a hand, he jabbed a long finger into his chest as he snarled, "Don't you dare tell me what is selfish. I gave up everything. Everything. My family, everything that I held dear to me is dead and gone because of my fucking sense of obligation and duty."

Something seemed to shattered in the depths of Dean's soul. It had been on the brink of breaking since the reality of his brother's death set in. The change was so sudden that to the angel, he could almost hear the twinkling break of glass. The bitterness that emanated from Dean, which had been palpable, now was overpowering.

Even in the pits of hell, there had been an innocent part of Dean that lurked far from the twisted parts of his soul. It was that vulnerability that had kept Castiel from forgetting about the man and returning to his duties. He had wanted to protect him, help that part of him to flourish and it had for a while- until things started to go down hill and it became more apparent that he or his brother would have to make an ultimate sacrifice.

Castiel watched those green eyes but his gaze looked deeper to the part of him that he most cherished. The small jewel, now so minute it was like a star against a backdrop of black sin and death. He reached up with a numb hand, his fingertips touching the bristled line of Dean's jaw. The small, glowing part of his soul flared to light as Dean closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Flaring brilliant, brightly like a star gone supernova, it winked out of existence and Dean opened his eyes, stepped away from Castiel and regarded him with a dark, deadened eyes.

Unwittingly, Castiel lost touch with his vessel as a mournful cry leashed itself from his celestial form to echo across the vast vault of heaven's sky. This was worse than death, worse than anything he had been subjected to and the pain of it could not be restrained. The host responded in confusion as his screams dwindled. He was a powerful entity and had seen so much, been through so much but it was the silent and permanent corruption of one single human soul that seemed to tear his seemingly indomitable spirit apart.

To Dean, it was merely the sudden and common disappearance of the angel in a flap of wings and a gust of wind that smelled faintly of frankincense and myrrh. Bereft of Castiel's presence, he hollow. He hefted the two duffel bags on his shoulder and fished his keys out of his pocket, resigning himself to the outside world and embarking on a journey that he wished with all his being that he didn't have to make. The impala sat in her spot in front of his door and for the first time, he felt a sense of dread wash over him as he prepared for the journey ahead.

He could make it to Indiana in ten hours, less if he floored it which he was apt to do- sense of urgency or no. Opening the impala up always cheered him up from a bad mood. But, this time he felt dread which made him reluctant to put the pedal to the metal. He sat in the driver's seat and tried to ignore the painful absence of his baby brother as the impala's engine purred to life. Easing into traffic, he found himself driving passed the exit to the highway and straight down the road, up the hill and deeper into town. It was strange that his thoughts were silent but the grief was still there, sloshing around in the empty part of him where his heart used to be. He stopped at a red light and scrubbed his face with his hands, fighting the urge to cry again. He wasn't a sissy- he had to man up and deal. What had he expected when they had resigned themselves to fighting Lucifer? There had been no way for at least one of them not to lose their life in this battle. It had been a necessary sacrifice but that had never made it any easier. When the dilemma had been brought to their attention, it seemed like the crack of a starting pistol and they had both raced blindly to its end. The best Dean could have hoped for was a tie, where both had either died or survived but that had never been a realistic outcome. In the end, Sammy had gotten there first.

"Sammy. Sammy. What am I gonna do without you, dude?" He mumbled into his hands, feeling the hot prickle of tears behind his eyes.

He didn't drive for long before realized he was putting himself, the impala and other people in danger. The impala drifted into oncoming traffic as his mind meandered aimlessly. It was the blare of an oncoming vehicle's horn that cause him to jerk the wheel and swerve onto the gravel shoulder of the road. He slammed on the breaks and took a deep breath, trying to control the jittery feeling in his limbs.

In front of him hung a sign from a white post. In gold letters it read, "Paradise Found B&B" He hadn't seen another sign for a motel but then, he hadn't been looking for one either. He resigned himself to at least find the Bed and Breakfast. At least he could get his thoughts in order and start fresh in the morning. Pulling off the interstate, he found the bread and breakfast forty minutes out. It was a pleasant, sprawling farmhouse covered in a sunny yellow clapboard and white trimming and a dark red shingled roof. He drove up the winding driveway and into the cobblestone courtyard that was hemmed in by a barn, a stable and the side of the house. A squat woman came out of the barn, wiping her hands on a dirty, greasy rag before stuffing it in her worn denim overalls. She had grey hair streaked with dark brown that seemed to have been coaxed into a bun at the top of her head. An all of five feet, she was stocky and had broad shoulders. The smile on her face was warm and inviting, her bright blue eyes radiated a sort of serenity that made him feel oddly at ease.

"Howdy!" The woman said pleasantly, holding out a large hand to shake. He took it and offered a small, tight smile, "Hi. I was hoping that you would have an extra room for the night."

"Just you, I suppose?"

"Yes ma'am."

She glanced at the car, "That's a shame. Usually young, handsome pups like you have a pretty bride on his arm."

"Sorry to disappoint." He offered her a tight smile.

The woman shrugged, "Ah well- their loss. Anyways, I have the room if you want it." She made a gesture for him to follow as she walked towards the house, the heels of her rubber boots scudding noisily off of the worn cobblestones. "My name is Jo and around here someplace is Gertie. She's the little lady who'll be making your meals for you- you don't have any allergies, do you?"

"No ma'am."

"Not ma'am- Jo." She corrected offhandedly as they entered the house. "Take your shoes off. Gertie'll tan your hide if she catches you on her clean floors with dirty shoes- paying customer or no."

Dean toed off his boots and stood waiting for Jo who seemed to be having trouble with her boots. When she finally got them off, she fished out two pairs of worn slippers and handed one set to Dean. "These'll keep your feet warm. The dang floors here are like ice in the morning."

After putting his slippers on, he followed the woman through the house as she pointed out the home's amenities. Up the creaking, worn stairs his bedroom was at the end of the hall before another set of stairs that led up to another floor of rooms- two more in total before ending in an attic where Jo and Gertie both lived. He was fortunate to have the floor to himself and therefore, a bathroom that was entirely his. His bedroom was small but a pleasant change from his usual lodgings. A small marble fireplace sat at one end, large windows that reached from floor to ceiling overlooked a beautiful garden and beyond that, sweeping green clad hills. The bed was a twin that creaked as Dean sat on it, there was a heavy goose down duvet of dark green that matched the curtains and area rug in front of the fireplace. A set of gold coloured wingback chairs sat in front of the fire between them was a dark mahogany table that almost glowed from years of beeswax polish. There was a longboy of the same wood and a large scroll mirror as well as nightstands on either side of the bed. He could tell it was all old furniture, well loved and taken care of - like the rest of the house. It smelled faintly of the potpourri that sat in a crystal bowl on the dresser and freshly laundered sheets.

Dean smiled for the first time since the death of his brother. It was a beautiful room, one that he felt oddly safe in despite the lack of demon warding sigils on all exits. He realized that Jo had stopped talking and was regarding him with a gentle fondness that he had seen mothers regard their wayward children with.

"This is perfect." He said.

"I'm glad you like it. This house has been in our family for... well... since God knows when." She responded with pride, reaching out to pat a light green wall fondly. "Dinner is at five down in the dining room. So I'll leave you be to get settled and if you need anything, I'll be out in the barn until dinner."

Left in silence, Dean turned to stare out the window at the bright blue skies beyond. Fluffy white clouds slid by, dotting the hills with patches of shadow. This place was idyllic and for the first time in a very long time, he found himself fully at ease. It was interrupted as restlessness set in. It was as if he was waiting for the other foot to drop and demons to come swarming in through the beautiful windows and kick down the door. Shaking his head, he dismissed the screams that echoed in his head and went to fetch his bag.

TBC


End file.
